Landmines
by energis121
Summary: Their love was a very complex one. Set in a AU season 11-ish.


_**A/N: First of all, eff me if I know where the hell this came from. I just sat down a few days ago and wrote this whole thing in a few hours...I seriously have no idea how or why it happened. I was very hesitant to even post it but my lovely beta April has assured me that it's not that bad. As in, worse things have been written. I think she was just trying to be nice and not hurt my feelings too much :)**_

_**Second, I've made a few tweaks and changes to the canon. This could be considered as an AU season 11, only Tess is still alive, Chloe and Oliver are engaged and not married and Chloe is freelancing for the Daily Planet. **_

_**And finally, in case anyone needs clarification, the parts in italics are flashbacks.**_

* * *

The atmosphere in the dining room of Clark and Lois' new apartment was…tense, to say the least. If anyone had hoped that a move from the living room to the table filled with the best of Mrs. Kent's dishes would help diffuse the tension and awkwardness, they were wrong.

Chloe sighed as she filled her plate with three different kinds of food, letting her thoughts wander back to three weeks ago.

_The first person she saw when she regained consciousness at MetGen was Emil. He gave her a small smile as she lazily opened her eyes, blinking a few times in disorientation._

"_Welcome back," he told her pleasantly, making her frown. _

"_Back from where?" she asked automatically, still trying to sort through the memories that were slowly coming back to her. _

"_A five days long, medically induced coma," he answered bluntly. There was certainly no beating around the bush with Dr. Hamilton. _

"_Is that why my head hurts so much?" was her next question and he smiled a bit wider. _

"_Partially. It hurts because of an injury to your head and any subsequent swelling."_

_She groaned feebly. "Did I fall off a rooftop again?"_

_He sighed in response. "I wish it had only been that," he said quietly before pushing his glasses up his nose. "What do you remember?"_

_She squinted her eyes in thought, trying to unearth the last memory she could recall. "We were tracking down that Star City mob boss who was after Ollie…" her voice trailed off as her eyes suddenly widened. "Where's Ollie?"_

"_Relax," Emil ordered, gently pushing her back onto the hospital bed when she decided to just get up and find Oliver herself. "He's fine. You were the only one who got hurt."_

_That made her pause. "Oh."_

"_You don't remember anything?"_

"_Not really, no," she said honestly. The last thing she remembered was being in Watchtower and getting ready to call it a night. After that, it was all a blank._

_He nodded, as if he had expected an answer along those lines. "Partial memory loss is very common in head injuries such as yours, Chloe. And I think that, in this case, it's probably for the best."_

_Now she gulped. This was really starting to sound bad. "Why?" she dared to ask, making Emil purse his lips in consideration._

"_In the spirit of full doctor-patient disclosure…you were kidnapped. And…beaten," he finally settled on what he deemed to be an appropriate choice of words for her current situation. "When you were brought here you had multiple bruises of varying severity, a broken rib and a hairline cranial fracture which has resulted in that brain swelling I informed you about before. I chose to put you in an induced coma to allow your body to heal more effectively."_

_She could just nod along. Now that he mentioned all the injuries she'd sustained, she had to admit that she was pretty much aching all over. She pushed the thought of pain aside and focused on a more pressing issue._

"_Why was I kidnapped?" she questioned, even though she could already guess the answer. _

"_I don't have all the details," he felt like he should point out first before proceeding, "but from what the rest of the League has told me, that mob boss from Star City you were trying to locate abducted and beat you as a warning to Oliver."_

_Again, she simply nodded. "What happened after that?"_

"_That's the part I can't answer with certainty. You will have to ask the others."_

"_Where are they?"_

"_Lois and Clark are in the waiting room."_

_She took a long, deep breath. "Can you tell them to come in? I want to know what happened."_

_Emil nodded and stepped outside her room to call for the infamous reporting duo._

"So, Chloe," Martha began in what was meant to be a relaxed tone of voice, trying to break the tension that had settled over them, "how is that freelancing for the Daily Planet going?"

Chloe lifted her eyes from the plate she'd been filling, sending a small smile in the older woman's direction. "Quite well, actually," she said with a hint of enthusiasm, "I've written several pieces to date and Perry has already requested another one. You wouldn't have anything to do with his unwavering interest in my writing, would you?"

"Oh no, sweetheart, that's all you," Mrs. Kent reassured. "Perry has actually been quite a fan of yours ever since the first time he met you in Smallville. As far as he says, you are actually the one reporter in a two-hundred-mile radius who has genuine talent. My son, on the other hand, is only still on the paper's payroll as a courtesy to me," she teased good-naturedly, making Chloe grin and send a look in Clark's direction.

"Mom," the latter protested indignantly, his mouth falling into a pout.

"What does Perry say about me?" Lois inquired, undisturbed by her better half's apparent lack of talent.

"He says he's only still employing _you_ because he wants to stay on Chloe's good side."

Lois genuinely grinned at that, draping an affectionate arm around her cousin's shoulders. "Where would I ever be without you, Chlo?"

Chloe returned her cousin's smile before glancing across the table at Oliver who was the only one staying silent during the exchange, his eyes firmly glued to the lasagna he was pushing around his plate. She sighed.

"_How are you feeling, Chlo?" Lois asked in concern as she entered the room, followed closely by Clark. _

"_Like I've been run over by a train," the blonde responded, "And from what I hear, that's not too far from the truth."_

"_Do you remember what happened?" Clark's question came next as he moved closer to the bed._

_She shook her head slowly, not wanting to add to her pain with sudden movements. "Nothing whatsoever. I just remember getting ready to leave the tower and after that…nothing."_

"_His thugs took you on your way to Oliver's penthouse," Lois started filling in the blanks, "He then sent Ollie a video of…" she stopped short in her retelling of the events, seemingly unable to even get the words past her lips._

"_Me being used as a piñata, I presume," Chloe finished for her cousin, closing her eyes with a sigh. Oliver had probably not handled that one very well._

"_Something like that," Clark confirmed, glancing sideways at a mute Lois before focusing his gaze back on his best friend. "He sent it as a warning. Basically, stay out of my business or next time, your fiancée dies in a very unpleasant death."_

"_I guessed as much," Chloe said resignedly. "How did you get me out?"_

"_Tess managed to identify the building he was keeping you in," Clark resumed the story, "I'm not exactly sure how, but she isolated some reflections and then processed them through some kind of rendering software and - "_

"_Compared it to the architectural archive of the city we compiled," Chloe supplied, her mouth lifting upwards at the corners. "We've been working on that software for months. Good to know it works."_

"_Yeah. Anyway, after she found where you were being held, I went there, got you out and brought you here. And I think you'll be happy to know that your kidnappers are now at the mercy of our favorite Martian down at the precinct," he added with the slightest hint of a smile._

_She nodded, glad to hear that the story had at least some form of a happy ending. There was still one question she needed an answer to though._

"_Where's Ollie?"_

_Lois and Clark exchanged looks, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "Well…"_

"You know Oliver, that lasagna won't come to life no matter how much you poke it," Chloe quipped at the silent man before her, startling him.

He lifted his head at impressive speed, looking completely disconcerted. "Huh?"

"Your lasagna," she repeated, her eyes hard despite her seemingly light tone. "I'm offended on behalf of Mrs. Kent that you're mutilating instead of eating it."

He opened his mouth to respond but apparently could not think of anything to say. The silence settled upon them once more, the tension in the room skyrocketing. Once again, Martha came to the rescue.

"We're all out of salad," she noted, casting a glance at the empty bowl. "I should really make some more. Oliver, would like to help me?" she offered kindly but the look in her eyes told him he better accept the proposal.

"Sure," he mumbled, rising from his chair and following Martha into the kitchen.

_Chloe waited impatiently for Oliver to make an appearance at the hospital. Clark and Lois had told her Oliver was probably at the precinct making John's life a living hell when she'd asked about her fiancé's whereabouts. Apparently, he had been lashing out at all of them for the past few days, only taking a break to wallow in his guilt over the whole thing._

_Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he appeared in the doorway and…just froze._

"_You can actually come in you know," she told him light-heartedly, "Promise I'm not contagious."_

_He forced his facial muscles into a strained smile before taking a cautious step into the room. And then he took another one. Chloe felt like he was giving a quite literal meaning to 'baby steps'._

_She shooed Clark, Lois and Emil out of the room with a single look and it was only when they closed the door behind them that Oliver finally came closer to her bedside. She expected him to reach out for her hand, brush her bangs aside or exhibit some other form of his trademark affection towards her. Instead, he just shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and then simply stared at her._

_After some time had passed without him uttering a single word, Chloe sighed. "I guess there is no way for me to revoke your ticket for the Guilt-Trip Express, is there?"_

_His only response was a pained smile. She exhaled in resignation. "Well, I'll try anyway. You had no way of knowing he'd come after me and if anyone should have noticed I was being watched, it's either Tess or myself, since we do share the title of 'the eye in the sky'. And I don't actually remember anything, so you are also clear on the 'emotional trauma' front. Who knew head injuries could be so useful?"_

"_Please don't joke about this," he said quietly, shaking his head along slightly._

"_Ollie, we've been together long enough for you to know that there is no trauma or near-death experience that I won't brush off or joke about. For example, if you die, I promise I'll make your epitaph as humorous as possible. Something like… Here lies Oliver Queen, whose fetish for green leather brought - "_

"_Stop it," he interrupted her. His voice wasn't sharp or harsh but there was a definite hint of warning in there._

"_Come on, Ollie," she pleaded, "We've been in situations like this one before, don't - "_

"_Have we? Name one time you got beaten with metal pipes because of **me**," he challenged, his tone now definitely one of irritation._

_She pursed her lips. "Canary threw knives at me and made my face bleed that one time when I was doing some illegal hacking for **you**. Does that count? I mean, technically, the knives were made of metal, so…"_

_His eyes went to the ceiling and then to the side as he tried to push his growing frustration down. _

"_Okay, look, I'm sorry," she apologized, realizing she may have taken it a bit too far, "Too soon for jokes, I get it. But I'll be fine," she assured him, trying to catch his gaze but he skillfully avoided eye contact. "A couple of weeks spent in recovery and I'll be as good as new."_

"_Yeah," was all he said before heading for the door. "I'm going to talk to Emil, see if he's okay with letting you stay at the penthouse instead of here."_

"You okay, cuz?" Lois asked softly as Oliver and Martha went out of earshot with Chloe still staring after them.

"Define 'okay'," she responded numbly, ordering herself not to cry. It would be an absolutely ridiculous reaction and she was not about to ruin the Kent's and Lois' - however unsuccessful – attempt to her up with this dinner.

"He just needs some more time," Clark tried to explain Oliver's behavior, knowing how hard this whole ordeal had been on his friend. "You don't remember it and that's a good thing, but that video he received…it was bad, Chlo."

"Yeah, I know," she acknowledged Clark's words, eyes still trained on the archway that lead into the kitchen. "And I know he feels guilty and…" she stopped and shook her head. "I just…miss him," she added softly.

_Emil had granted Oliver permission to take Chloe back to his penthouse and take care of her himself, as long as he promised that he wouldn't let her overexert herself._

_Chloe was more than glad to leave the hospital and spend the rest of her recovery at Oliver's, since they were practically already living together and the Clocktower was starting to feel more like home than the Talon ever had. _

_As it turned out, her contentment was short-lived. _

_Oliver was being distant, closed-off and unusually quiet. He made sure she had food in her system and ibuprofen running through her veins at all times but other than that, he was practically invisible. What she took the hardest though was that he wouldn't even touch her. Forget bedroom gymnastics, he wasn't even pecking her on the lips. It seemed like he was avoiding coming into contact with any part of her and when he was – by fate's cruel sense of humor – forced to put his hands on her skin, his touch was always so light she could barely feel it. _

_But she let it slide, figuring he needed some time to process everything, especially after the 'shower incident' that happened during the first week of her stay. She'd been getting ready to hop – or rather limp – into the shower, already stripped of her clothing when Oliver walked in, wanting to ask her if she had any preferences for dinner. He'd opened the door, got a look at the numerous bruises of varying shades covering her body, blanched and then promptly sprinted out of the bathroom as fast as his legs would carry him. When she came down for dinner afterwards, he didn't say a word during the entire meal. Unless you considered asking 'you done?' to be an actual conversation, of course._

_So, she let it all slide, more or less hoping he would get over it soon. He didn't. _

_And so three weeks passed since her unfortunate kidnapping and Chloe didn't know what to do anymore._

"Why don't you cut the onions?" Martha suggested as she deposited a handful of the vegetables in Oliver's hands, not leaving him many other options but to comply with her request.

"Yeah, I can do that," he muttered, moving to the sink and peeling the onions before rinsing and then laying them on the cutting board. Martha handed him a knife and he got to work. It wasn't long before the sulfenic acids started doing their thing, making his eyes sting.

"Dammit," he hissed under his breath, blinking to chase away the annoying sensation and only succeeding to make his eyes fill with tears.

On his right, Martha smirked. "Can't beat the onions," she commented, "I used to make Jonathan cut them all the time."

"To make him suffer?" Oliver wondered out loud, finally accepting defeat and letting the tears roll down his cheeks. Really, this had to be the culinary version of torture.

"No," she replied simply, "To give him an excuse to cry."

Her words made Oliver pause in his movements, craning his head sideways to look at her incredulously. She chuckled lightly at his expression.

"You men are all the same. Tears are for women," she stated in a deeper tone of voice, obviously meant to mock the entire male portion of the human race, "Or the weak," she added with a shrug before proceeding. "Jonathan was like that and so are you. You want to appear strong for Chloe but you're hurting too. And God forbid you actually let it show so you push it all down, sweep it under the rug and carry on. I am giving you the perfect opportunity to just let it all out."

He stared at her profile for a little while longer before returning to his task. Sure enough, the invisible gas spreading from the sliced up vegetables assaulted his eyes once, resulting in salt water spilling down his cheeks. And in the midst of the flood, a few more droplets joined the party, only these had nothing to do with the lachrymatory compounds of the onions.

A couple of minutes passed in silence before Martha spoke again. "If you want to talk, get it all off your chest…I'm a very good listener. I promise you that whatever you say will never leave this kitchen."

He nodded in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Mrs. Kent."

"Just take your time."

A few more minutes went by without either of them speaking until Oliver decided he might as well go for it.

"She's not safe with me," he whispered, his gaze still fixated on the partially chopped up onions before him.

Martha had to stifle a genuine laugh at that. "She was never safe, not even when she and Clark were practically attached at the hip. She has been in perilous situations from a very young age Oliver, and unless she suddenly decides to get a career change, she will keep getting herself in trouble. Not much you can do about it."

"But this was _because_ of me," he emphasized, bringing the knife down on the unsuspecting veggies with just a bit more force than necessary. "It wasn't because she's Watchtower or because her articles rubbed someone the wrong way…it was just because she's Oliver Queen's fiancée."

"Powerful men have powerful enemies," Martha said sagely, filling the salad bowl with sliced up tomatoes, cucumbers and lettuce. "It's just the way it is."

"Yeah…and she got caught in the crossfire."

"Well, every problem has a solution. Have you found one yet?"

"I'm…still working on it."

"You do know what the easiest, safest one would be, don't you?" she asked calmly, as if she were discussing something as mundane as the weather. "You could just…leave her."

Oliver's movements with the knife faltered and his eyelids drifted shut. "Don't think I haven't considered it," he muttered darkly, discarding the blade and bracing his hands on the counter.

"It would be the simplest solution, the noblest one, at the very least. Except you can't make yourself do it, can you?" she queried knowingly with a small, sad smile.

He shook his head. "I…I don't want to be…without her," he finally got the words out, unsure of how to express his emotions accurately, "But I'd still rather have her away from me and alive than by my side and…dead."

"Like I said, noble," Martha asserted once more before pursing her lips. "Is that why you have been pulling away from her?" she proceeded to ask, getting a whole new explanation for his strange behavior. The last time she'd seen them together, he was hugging her to his side so tightly, air wouldn't have been able to find a crack to slip through. Now, it seemed like Oliver was doing everything in his power to prevent from having even the slightest form of contact with her. "You want her to get sick of you and leave you herself so you won't have to do it," she went on as all the pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place. She shook her head desolately. "I'm sorry, son, but that's just cowardly.'

He chuckled humorlessly, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. "What can I say, Mrs. Kent…I'm a noble coward."

"Aren't you all?" she muttered under her breath before taking the cutting board he'd been using and adding the small pieces of onion into the salad mix. She moved to the shelves behind her to grab some salt, olive oil and vinegar. "The way I see it, Oliver," she spoke again as she began adding the final ingredients, "This is something you and Chloe have to sort out together. None of us have any business in your relationship but if I can offer you a piece of motherly advice…don't distance yourself from her. I've known Chloe for a very long time and if there's one thing I've learned about her, it's that physical pain means little to her. Emotional pain, on the other hand…you know as well as I do that she's been cast aside and neglected one too many times, more often than not by my own son. And now you're doing the same. Solve your situation any way you want, but stop hurting her the way you are. The salad is done," she announced as she stirred all the ingredients in the bowl, subsequently taking the latter in both her hands and heading out of the kitchen.

Oliver made sure to wipe any tear stains off his face before following her back to the dining room.

The sight greeting him there was that of Chloe buttoning up her jacket. "Are we leaving?" he asked in confusion, wondering what he had missed during his cathartic trip to the kitchen.

"You can stay if you want," Chloe replied without even glancing at him, "Clark can speed me ho – to the Clocktower," she changed her choice of words midway through her sentence and it didn't go unnoticed by Oliver. He swallowed hard as the implications of it sank in.

"No need, I'm…I'll take you to the penthouse. Why are we leaving so soon, though?" he couldn't help but ask. Chloe had been quite excited about coming over to check out Clark and Lois' new love nest. The visit obviously didn't go as smoothly as planned but she did seem like she was having a good time at some point.

"I'm just…really tired," she replied hollowly and he couldn't help but panic the slightest bit. "Are you - "

And then she snapped. "Yes, Oliver, I am fine!" she almost shouted as she whirled on him, causing him to take a reflexive step back. "I am just fine! No, I don't feel dizzy and no, my ribs don't hurt and I most certainly don't feel like I'm having an aneurism, I'm just goddamned tired!"

He stood stock-still as her outburst came to an end. No one in the room spoke for quite a while as she took unsteady, calming breaths. She hadn't meant to snap like that, much less in front of family, but she'd just had it with him. For three weeks he had been basically ignoring her existence, only addressing her when he thought she was in some sort of physical distress, living in constant anticipation of a non-existent aneurism.

"I'm sorry," she apologized to the Kent's and Lois, "I did have a great time. It was really nice to see you again, Mrs. K," she told the woman she by now considered to be her second mother and gave her a tight hug.

"You too, sweetheart," Martha responded warmly when the embrace ended.

They bid their goodbyes after that and descended to Oliver's car. They got in, buckled their seatbelts and drove all the way to his place in complete silence. He'd had half-a-mind to start some form of conversation at more than one point but thought better of it every time.

They finally arrived at their destination and rode the elevator to the top floor, once again in complete silence.

When the car skidded to a halt, she pushed the grates aside and stepped out, not once glancing in his direction. She disappeared to the upper level, presumably to take a shower and get into more comfortable clothes.

Oliver watched her go before making his way to the couch and sitting down, trying to decide what to do next. His conversation with Martha had given him quite a bit to think about, mostly about how his actions were causing Chloe pain. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to hurt her but in true Oliver Queen fashion, he'd managed to do just that and in more ways than one. Her ties to him had gotten her hurt physically. His inability to deal with his feelings of fear and anxiety had caused her emotional distress.

Sometimes he really wondered what she was doing with him in the first place.

He sighed as he considered his options. The safest thing for her would be to call off the engagement, break up for good and not speak to each other ever again unless it was for League-related business. Safest for her and most painful for him. He didn't want to let her go, even if he knew his reasons were along the lines of something as selfish as…well, being happy.

_If you love her, let her go_, a little voice chanted in his head and he let his eyes drift shut, having no clue as to how to deal with all these conflicting emotions he was experiencing.

He cursed under his breath when he felt a few unwelcome tears gathering behind the curtain of his eyelids. Where _were_ those onions when you needed them?

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, eyes closed and head resting on his palms, but he heard the soft thudding of her footsteps as she came down the stairs after a while.

He both heard and felt her come to a halt halfway into the room. He didn't dare lift his head just yet; too many tears, too little time to hide them.

"Aren't you going to ask me to put on some slippers because I'll fall and break my neck if I keep walking around barefoot?" she asked after a while and he could hear the hesitancy in her voice. She was probably wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

He chuckled into his hands. "Would you listen if I did?"

"No."

"Then what's the point?"

"I don't know, Oliver," she tossed back, crossing her arms over her chest, "You tell me. What's the point of taking care of me, making sure I heal to Emil's satisfaction if you're going to keep running away from me like I'm some sort of plague when your nursing services aren't required?"

He felt his heart pick up speed as he accepted the inevitable. She'd reached her breaking point, gotten tired of turning a blind eye to his behavior and was finally confronting him. Unfortunately, that also meant that his time for deliberation on the best course of action had come to an end.

He lowered his hands and motioned for her to come closer. She did as he wanted and moved towards the couch, sitting down on the edge of the coffee table.

"It's all about easing your guilt, right?" she guessed and wasn't the least bit surprised when she saw him nod. "How is that one coming along?"

He let out a small, mirthless laugh at her question. "I think it's safe to say that it hasn't been one of my most successful projects."

He paused for a moment, casting his eyes downwards before finally reaching for her left hand. The one bearing the engagement ring he'd given her not too long ago.

The unexpected nature of his gesture made her freeze, eyes widening at the sudden contact. She kept still, allowing him to run his fingers over her knuckles as he seemed to be mulling over what he was going to say next.

"There's a reason I've always kept people at arm's length," he began after what felt like an hour to Chloe, "Why I'd never been in a serious relationship before."

She nodded very slowly. "Because you have an absolutely dreadful mixture of both commitment and trust issues."

"Partially," he replied as he took a deep breath. "And then there's the fact that…simply put, anyone who matters to me has a target painted on their back."

"Not that I'd want to bruise your ego, but I manage to get a target painted on my back all by myself, thank you very much," she retorted, starting to get annoyed. She couldn't figure out why he was acting this way, blowing it all out of proportion and making it his fault. That was Clark's M.O., not Oliver's.

A faint smile touched his lips at her jab. It was a bitter one, though. "That may be true when it comes to secret organizations, disgraced politicians and our favorite bald nemesis. But this time it was about me."

"Yeah, so? You're a billionaire with principals, you're bound to get your fair share of enemies along the way, ones that have nothing to do with that rather embarrassing hobby you like to call archery."

"That's just it. They're _my_ enemies, not yours. You shouldn't be put in danger because of it."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know if you've noticed, but danger is basically the lifestyle I've chosen. All things considered, I think I got off easy this time."

That made him stiffen and finally bring his eyes to hers, flashing with anger. "Easy? You had three thugs beating you down with heavy objects of their choosing and - "

"And I don't remember any of it," she cut him off, way too tired of that never-ending argument. "Like I said, easy."

He looked like he was about to retort but then decided against it, shaking his head slightly as his gaze shifted down to their joined hands once more. "Well, I just don't see it that way."

"Why don't we just agree to disagree?"

His only response was to shake his head, making her sigh. "Fine, what's your solution then?"

He paused, took a deep breath and slipped the ring off her finger.

* * *

"How are you holding up?" Clark asked sympathetically, handing her a large cup of the only thing that could bring her mood up at the moment. It was late on a Friday night and all the reporters had long ago deserted the Planet, meaning that Chloe could have some uninterrupted one-on-one with her best friend in the one place that had always brought her comfort.

She sighed sadly as she accepted his highly-caffeinated offering. "I mostly just want to bash his head in," she replied truthfully, "Or possibly chop off that appendage of his he's so proud of and feed it to stray dogs while forcing him to watch the feast. Does that make me a bad person?"

Clark smiled ever-so-slightly. "Maybe just a bit mentally unstable," he said, "but not bad. It's understandable that you're angry."

She scoffed. "To say that I'm angry would be a serious understatement," she muttered darkly before pinning her alien bestie down with a glare. "Just so you know, I blame you."

"Me?" he exclaimed in confusion. "What did I do?"

"Oh, don't play the innocent, Mr. Moral Standards," she retorted, still studying him through narrowed eyes, "You started rubbing off on him after all the time you've been spending together. I mean, sacrificing your feelings because of the misguided belief that it will keep your closest ones safe is your askew idea of doing what's right, not his. Need I bring up Lana?"

Clark opened his mouth – most likely to protest – but almost immediately closed it in defeat. He took a deep breath before proceeding. "That's exactly why I understand where his decision is coming from."

"Are you saying that I'm crazy because I don't?" she challenged, eyes flaring once more.

"No," he was quick to reassure, fighting the urge to hold his hands up in surrender, "I'm just saying that…well, I've been there, done that."

"And how did that one work out for you?" she questioned snidely, knowing very well that that particular strategy had failed every time he'd implemented it.

He hung his head. "You already know the answer to that."

"My point exactly. I mean, I'll probably get myself killed one day anyway and I won't even need his help to do it. And when I do end up six feet under or in a mental institution because I'd been experimented on and driven to the edge of sanity, he'll feel guilty because he wasn't by my side to play the stupid hero and it'll all be his fault anyway," she ranted, accompanying her heated monologue with furious hand gestures. "And I'll be dead right, so all of this idiotic noble sacrifice of his would have been for nothing and all the nights I'd spend crying myself to sleep would have been for nothing 'cause I'll be dead and I won't remember any of them and - "

A choked sob interrupted her tirade and she covered her mouth quickly in a futile attempt to suppress it. Clark was by her side instantly, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Maybe he'll change his mind," he said, hoping to make her feel better.

She laughed hollowly at the ridiculousness of that idea. "He's even more stubborn than I am. He's not changing his mind."

Oliver's patrol was not going well. He'd hoped that a night out on the streets with a few punches aimed at scumbags' faces thrown in the mix would be a perfect outlet for his frustration but, as it turned out, he'd been wrong. It's mostly because Tess seemed very adamant in making him suffer.

Halfway through his patrol, she alerted him of a situation, telling him that there were innocents in danger and that he was to get there as soon as possible. He immediately asked her to give him the fastest road to the scene, to which she replied that the sewers were the shortest route. He didn't object, putting the needs of others before the feeling of disgust he felt at the prospect of crawling through piles of excrement and nasty-looking rats. So he did as she asked, went into the most revolting place he could fathom and emerged on the other side – covered in substances he'd rather not think of – only to be greeted with…_kittens_. Abandoned kittens smack in the middle of a road.

"You're kidding me, right?" he growled into his com, getting a sudden urge to strangle the redhead with his bare hands.

"I don't see why you've come to that conclusion," she replied calmly, completely unfazed by the anger in his distorted voice.

"You made me crawl through feces and decomposing rodents so I could rescue _kittens_?" he practically yelled, idly wondering if Emil would refuse to keep the title of team's physician if he beheaded his girlfriend.

"Are you saying that just because they are not intellectually evolved and don't have a discernible language, they don't deserve to be saved?" she countered in a cold tone of voice, making his jaw tick.

"You made it sound like it was an _emergency_," he hissed through gritted teeth.

"It is an emergency. They're in the middle of the street. A car could drive by and run them over any second."

Oliver closed his eyes and took deep breaths through his nose as he tried to reign in on his temper.

"Take them to the nearest animal shelter," she ordered next, "I am sending the coordinates to you right now. Let me know when you're done."

And with that, she went offline.

After a few more minutes of improvised meditation, he picked up the kittens along with the blanket they came with and took off to the shelter.

And to add insult to misery, the miniature felines also appeared to have a grudge against him because they decided that his face would make the perfect sharpening tool for their growing claws.

A couple of hours later, he stormed into the tower, only to find Tess still at the main console, merrily typing away at the keyboard. He'd had some time to cool off but it hadn't helped quell his murderous urges in the slightest. The entire time he'd spent hopping rooftops after leaving the animal shelter, a twisted fantasy kept playing in his head, one where he was William Tell and an apple was resting comfortably on the top of Tess' head. He'd lift his crossbow and aim it just a little south of the red fruit…

"Could you please go and change?" she asked, not a trace of politeness or sympathy in her voice. "You reek."

His jaw clenched convulsively. "Well, I have you to thank for that."

She shrugged. "It was an emergency and the sewers _were_ the fastest way to get there. Come on, Oliver, if anyone knows that sometimes heroes need to make sacrifices, it's you."

The blatant jab at his decision to end his engagement to Chloe caused him to take a few steps in her direction, pulling down his hood and taking off his glasses in the process.

"My personal life has nothing to do with my patrols!"

"I never said it did. I was merely pointing out a fact."

"You know what, Tess, if you have something to say to me, just say it."

"I think that Lois, Dinah, AC and Victor have pretty much covered it already," she replied, still keeping her back to him, "There's not much I could add."

He chuckled humorlessly. "So you're resorting to passive aggression? That's never been your style."

"And being selfless and self-sacrificing has never been yours," she tossed back, a hint of mocking in her voice, "So I guess we've both changed."

"So what, now you're going to make my life a living hell because of some twisted girl code?"

She paused in her typing before finally turning around to face him with a condescending expression. "Of course not. That wouldn't be my style, now would it?"

He seethed in silence as she went on. "Your relationship with Chloe has never been any of my business so I'll stay out of it. But I won't apologize for making you go through the sewers; those kittens really did need saving."

The following day, it was Chloe's turn to take over the Watchtower duties she and Tess shared, since the latter was needed at LuthorCorp. She made quick work of sorting through some intel Cyborg had sent over before sitting back and just enjoying the silence. Ever since Oliver had basically dumped her a few days prior, everyone in their circle of friends had made it their mission to comfort her and give him grief. In fact, Clark seemed to be the only one who was willing to remain cordial with Oliver. Lois had told her it was because Clarkie was far too kind of a soul to let anyone feel rejected but Chloe knew better.

She bit her lower lip as she considered Oliver's side of things. She could somewhat understand where he was coming from; after all, his overwhelming need to protect her had become – what Bart called – stuff of legends by now. Still, she never thought that same need would ever warrant a reaction of this magnitude. As she thought it over further, she came to the conclusion that the root cause of the problem was the video her now ex-fiancé had received…

"Hmm," she muttered lowly as she moved back to the console and started going through the databases.

Oliver dreaded the moment he was going to walk into headquarters again with Chloe inside. They hadn't spoken since…well, _then_ and he knew that it would be extremely awkward when they were finally face to face again. Perhaps even a little bit painful.

Still, they were planning a big mission overseas and, as the team's leader, he needed to make sure everything was in order. Unfortunately, that also meant he had to coordinate it all with Tower 1.0, who just so happened to be the love of his life he'd just broken up with.

He paused in front of the double doors, took a deep breath and then pushed them open. He took a few steps into the room and then froze in his tracks as he caught a glimpse of the video she was playing on the large monitor in front of her.

"What are you watching?" he exclaimed a bit nonsensically, since he knew perfectly well what she was watching.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, whirling around to face him while bringing a hand to her chest. She hadn't even heard the system's warning that someone was on their way up. Still startled and thrown slightly off-kilter by his outburst, she said the only thing she could think of.

"I just had to see what all the fuss was about."

He stared at her incredulously, shaking his head helplessly as he kept making inarticulate sounds. Then, before he realized what he was doing, he moved to the console and hit the space bar to freeze the video. "Don't watch that," he said curtly, trying to calm his breathing and heartbeat as he wondered why he was suddenly exhibiting the first symptoms of a mild panic attack.

"Last time I checked, I could watch whatever I wanted," she retorted, annoyed by his antics. "I don't need your permission."

"You shouldn't be watching this," he mumbled exasperatedly, starting to fumble with the keyboard in an attempt to shut the video player down but she batted his hands away in irritation.

"Despite what you may think, I _am_ capable of deciding what I should or should not do by myself," she snapped, even giving him a shove in the chest to prove her point. He stumbled a couple of steps backwards, purely because she'd caught him off-guard.

"The…you…just…I…" he stuttered bewilderedly before raking a somewhat unsteady hand through his hair. "Just don't watch it, okay?" he pleaded, "It can bring back the memories and…just…just don't."

His display of concern almost made her soften up. Emphasis on 'almost'.

"And why exactly is it that you even care about my mental state?"

Her words made him still, looking at her with wide, incredulous eyes. "Why do I care?" he all but yelled, making _her_ take a cautious step back this time. "I did all of this," he gestured around wildly as his voice kept gaining in volume, "because I care! Because I care too damned much!"

And on that note he was out the door, forgetting all about mission-planning and leaving a completely stunned Chloe in his wake.

An entire week went by and Oliver hadn't as much as spoken to Chloe on the coms, mostly because they were simultaneously ignoring and avoiding each other.

Oliver had spent his now considerably greater free time at the penthouse, feeling more lonely and miserable than he had in years.

As the ninth day since their break-up was coming to an end, Oliver received a call from Clark. He debated on whether to even answer it but decided that he probably should, in case it was important.

"Clark," he greeted with obviously feigned delight, "what I can do for you on this lonely, cold night?"

"Oliver, you need to get to MetGen right now," the other man spoke hastily and Oliver was immediately on alert.

"What happened?" he dared to ask, already dreading the answer.

He heard Clark sigh deeply. "It's Chloe," he confirmed Oliver's worst suspicions, "She's in a coma…again."

"H-how?" Oliver managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper. Good thing his alien friend had super-hearing.

"I'm not sure…I mean, she fell in the tower and hit her head on the kitchen counter…Bart found her unconscious. And he also found a knocked-over stool next to her, so I think she was trying to reach something on the higher shelves…"

Oliver closed his eyes in mortification. "The secondary coffee supply," he muttered, feeling his chest tighten. Watchtower was equipped with two stacks of coffee: one was stored just next to the coffee maker and the other one was being kept on the highest shelf in the place, since there was no other place for it. So, whenever the primary one ran out, they took bags from the secondary supply. Chloe was too short to reach it and the heels she always insisted on wearing were not fit to climb a stool so Oliver would always take that responsibility upon himself and lower the goods. But now…

"How is she?" he asked as a whole new wave of guilt spread over him.

"It…doesn't look too good," Clark admitted, sounding very pessimistic. "It's her second head injury in a very short time and…Emil isn't sure if she'll be as lucky now as she was last time."

"I'm on my way."

Oliver made it to the hospital in record time and joined everyone in the waiting room. They all – with the exception of the honorable boy scout - ignored him entirely and Emil had yet to authorize any visits to her room so he ended up in the chapel, doing something he hadn't even considered since his parents had died.

A couple of hours later, Clark came looking for him and told him they'd all had their time at Chloe's bedside and that he could go see her now. He jumped at the opportunity and soon found himself staring down at her as a massive sense of déjà-vu hit him like a ton of bricks. What was even the point in trying to keep her safe when he was going to lose her to something as simple and mundane as falling off a barstool? And it was his fault this time too, because if he'd been there, she wouldn't even have had to make the effort in the first place.

He sighed. He just couldn't get it right. No matter how hard he tried, he always failed her.

He took the visitor's chair and hesitantly took her hand in his, locking his eyes on her fingers because he simply couldn't bring himself to look at her lifeless face.

"I know you can't even hear me," he began, knowing he was placing himself in one of the most clichéd scenarios of all time, "and even if you could, you probably wouldn't want to, so it's a good thing you can't. I…I just need you to wake up and…be okay. And even if you have some brain damage, that's totally fine, you're too smart as it is anyway. And I'll take care of you and help you get better and I promise I won't act like a jackass this time. Just…just wake up, okay? 'Cause I'm really freaking out and I think I'm about two seconds away from having a nervous breakdown…Did you know I was in the chapel right now? Yeah, I know, me in a chapel, praying? Unbelievable. See how desperate I am? And you know what the worst part is? I gave God the 'Hey there, first-time caller, long-time listener' line. I gave _God_ that line. _God_. Our baby Jesus. I swear Mama Mary was giving me the evil eye afterwards," he ranted on and on before letting out an exasperated breath. "Oh God, what am I doing?" he wondered, dropping his head onto the mattress. He kept that position for a few minutes, working on getting his breathing under control before finally lifting his head and straightening up. "Just...wake up and stay alive. I'm not above begging because…because there is nothing and no one in this world that I love more than I love you…and that, Sidekick, is the whole, sad, pathetic truth," he admitted, dropping a light kiss to her forehead as he rose up from the chair and headed for the door.

He needed to find some onions. He wondered if the cooks in the cafeteria would let him cut some if he asked nicely…

After the door of the dimly lit room closed behind him, Chloe slowly smirked.

* * *

"_It would actually be kind of romantic if he wasn't such an idiot," was Lois' comment after Chloe had told her and Tess all about Oliver's reaction to her watching the tabooed video. The three women were sitting outside the Metro Café, indulging themselves in a few coffee-flavored treats. _

_Chloe rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but what does it mean?" she asked exasperatedly, hoping that the only two women beside her who had ever had a serious relationship with Oliver would be able to shine a light on the convoluted workings of his mind. _

"_I don't follow," Tess said in confusion, exchanging a look with Lois. _

_Chloe sighed. "He didn't want me to watch a video where I was being used as a punching bag, which would imply that he still cares about me but he broke up with me, so that would mean that he doesn't really care all that much because if he did, he wouldn't have let this come between us and he wouldn't have dumped me which brings us back to - "_

"_Okay, stop!" Lois halted her cousin's jumbled speech. "I don't know what you're thinking, Chlo, but his love for you was never the issue here. It's just the…weird, pseudo-heroic way he's expressing it that's causing a problem."_

_Chloe deflated, sinking back into her chair and taking a big sip of chocolate-chip-infused comfort. "But why? I mean, if someone had beaten him up because of me, I wouldn't have left him."_

"_Well, he's got that alpha-male, protect-thy-mate thing going on," Tess tried to offer a piece of explanation. "Maybe that's where this is coming from."_

_Lois cocked her head to the side as she considered that particular possibility. "There's definitely that," she agreed, pursing her lips in thought, "But you know, I think it's more because he finally realized how much danger he puts Chloe in by just being with her. And he thinks he'll keep her safe by putting as much distance as he can between them…"_

_Tess nodded. "Plausible."_

"_That still doesn't help me," Chloe pointed out, "I…I don't want to lose him just because he's so…so…just so…"_

"_Stupid?"_

"_Mentally challenged?"_

"_Misguidedly heroic?"_

"_Just plain retarded?"_

_Chloe let out a small laugh at her friends' different choices of adjectives. "Yeah, that."_

"_Well, you have to make him see that you'll be in constant danger with or without him," Tess reasoned, earning herself a nod of approval from Lois._

"_I've already tried telling him that," Chloe said with defeat in her voice. "Multiple times. It's no use."_

"_Well then…maybe you should just **show** it to him," Lois suggested, the corners of her lips curving into a sly smirk. Chloe frowned in confusion._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_If you get hurt due to something completely unrelated to him, it could make him realize that it's pointless to be away from you because you'll get killed/tortured/fed to squirrels no matter what. And it would be a definite plus if he could have prevented your injury from happening in the first place."_

_Chloe stared at the brunette in shock before a small smirk started forming on her lips as well. Oliver only ever learned things the hard way and besides, she'd already staged an intervention of this sort once before. Doing something similar now would be child's play. "Sounds like a plan."_

"_I agree," Tess joined the bandwagon, "Oliver did always need visual aids."_

_The other two simply turned to her with their eyebrows raised. Tess just looked to the side awkwardly and gulped the rest of her coffee down._

Four days after Chloe had been admitted for her second head injury in just over two weeks, Oliver received a call from Emil, letting him know that she was awake and had no apparent long-term consequences from her unfortunate fall.

Oliver had rushed over there, stumbled into the room she was staying in and found her sitting up in her bed.

She smiled when she saw him appear in the doorway. "Why do I feel like I've lived through this scene once before?"

He smiled back. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Hmm…it must be because of all these head injuries. I think it's starting to mess with my mind."

"Chloe," he warned in what was supposed to be a stern tone but his smile didn't waver.

"Don't give me that look or speech again. It's absolutely pointless."

"So I've learned," he said with resignation, taking a couple of steps in her direction before pausing again.

She gave him a look. "Seriously, Ollie, head injuries are _not _contagious."

"Well, I was trying to uh, respect your personal space," he lied very unconvincingly, making her arch an eyebrow.

"Since when do we have personal space?" she queried, tilting her head to the side. "As far as I remember, there hasn't been a place _in_ or _around_ my body you haven't invaded."

His eyes widened at the blatant sexual innuendo behind her words before he simply shook his head and chuckled.

Finally, he closed the distance between them and sat down on the same chair he'd occupied a few nights earlier. He briefly glanced at his hands before inhaling deeply and meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry," he finally said.

"Not this again," she spoke mostly to herself, sounding bored out of her mind.

"I'm serious," he insisted, "I'm sorry you got beaten up by mobsters because of me, I'm sorry that I was being a coward and left you and I'm sorry I wasn't there to get the coffee for you," he apologized up and down, saying it all in one breath.

She smiled warmly. "Apology accepted," she told him with genuine sincerity, her eyes sparkling as she waited for him to continue. He took that as a good sign.

"Thank you. And umm…I've come to realize with everything that's happened that no matter how hard I try, you'll still find ways to get yourself hurt. And I thought I was doing the right thing by, you know, walking away but…if I'd been there, you wouldn't be recovering from yet another head trauma right now. So I…I wanted…if you…I mean…See, the thing is…"

She surprised him by laughing. "Just say it, Ollie," she encouraged once her chuckles subsided.

He looked at her for a long moment, bulking up the courage, before finally digging into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out _the_ ring. "Is there any chance you'd want to take this one back?" he asked, valiantly trying to keep his voice light.

She alternated between staring at him and staring at the ring for a few moments as she bit down on her lower lip. Still, there was no way he could mistake the smile that was slowly forming on her lips for something else.

"I mean, I could give you that whole speech again," he went on, feeling much more confident, "I can even get down on one knee, cry a little…"

"Oh, just give it to me," she interrupted, snatching it herself and sliding it onto her finger all by her lonesome.

He broke out into a huge grin at her actions. "I'll take that as a yes."

She gave him a confused look. "What gave you the idea that I'd want to marry you this time around too? Maybe I just like the way it sparkles."

He started laughing loudly at her silliness, leaning forwards and enveloping her into a tight hug, still mindful of the injuries she didn't actually have. Not that he knew that.

She grinned as well as she hugged him back. _Mission accomplished_, she thought with satisfaction as his lips trailed along her jaw before finally meeting her mouth.

Outside in the hallway, the team, Lois and Emil couldn't quite contain their smiles of triumph.

"Nicely played, gang," Lois praised, her eyes trained on the two blondes inside the room, "Nicely played."


End file.
